


divine rush

by raffinit



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Breeding Kink, F/M, Feral Behavior, Furiosa is the most eaten out character in fandom history, Knotting, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, feral!Max doesn't learn to speak until he pretty much busts a nut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-06-07 12:20:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6803890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raffinit/pseuds/raffinit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Furiosa is Omega and Max has been brought in as the feral to breed her. That's literally it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. carousel

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna say it here, too: This piece of work contains graphic writing of non-consensual sex, including cunnilingus, implied forced orgasms, and violence. If any of those things are a squick, here be a warning to back away now. If not:
> 
> Furiosa is Imperator, but an Omega one. At the discovery of a healthy, feral, full-life Alpha in the wastelands (who just happens to also be a hi-octane universal donor), the Immortan has her strapped down to a breeding bench to serve her duty to him.

This isn’t the first time she’d been put on the breeding bench. 

They always make it a bare half-inch too tall, so that scrabbling feet and muscular trunks can do little else but flail and slip and hover virtually on nothing. Her toes scrape the dirt, slipping on the wetness of her sweat and cum dribbling shamefully into a puddle down between her legs, and even then Furiosa rages again as hard as she can. 

If she can just get something loose -

The muscles in her thighs quiver from the strain and disuse. Her cunt aches from abuse; War Boys and Imperators that had come to get their share of the fun, though Furiosa is only partway relieved at the immunity her position as Imperator had given her. Most of the War Boys had refused to touch her, out of fear or respect she didn’t care, but there had been Imperators who probably had wet dreams about doing exactly this to her. Beta men who took the sickest pleasure in forcing themselves inside her and smearing their cum over her thighs even as she’d snarled and hissed and did everything she could to mask the tears pooling in her eyes.

Her hips and thighs and cunt ache, bruises running dark over her skin already. 

Furiosa strains again, to no avail. Bound as she is, strapped down naked and cold and aching, and waiting for the appearance of their new breeding stud. The Organic was nearly buzzing as he gloated to her about it - “a full-blooded prime Alpha stud just for you, Imperator. Got the feral in from the wastelands just this morning; he’ll  _ tear  _ you to shreds,” and laughed his way back up into the blood shed.

She feels her stomach churn violently, bile pooling in her throat behind the gag at the thought. She had presented as an omega nearly three hundred days into becoming Joe’s new Wife; she remembers the rage that had boiled in the Immortan’s face when he realized, the faulty bitch she had become to him. 

_ Filthy omega scum _ , he’d called her, when all was said and done and Furiosa had been thrown from the Biodome down into the pits of the War Boy bunks. Betas couldn’t breed omegas, not without valiant effort, but omegas are still prized to them. The Citadel had an abundance of omegas, locked away in chambers and sheds; precious to the Immortan for their breasts swollen with milk and bellies full of litters of new War Pups. Alphas were far and few in between - if they didn’t kill each other in the Rut, then they wasted away just the same out in the sand.

They must be desperate now.

The leather and steel pinning her down digs into her skin, already rubbed raw and bruising; the solid, flat, uncomfortable surface of the bench cutting into her hips and thighs and putting an overwhelmingly tight pressure against her breasts. She tries to wriggle and twist her hand free, but they’re smart, the bastards, that fucking  _ Organic  _ -

She shudders in the black cold of her holding cell, and only barely manages to suppress a shivering whine when she feels her cunt dripping onto the floor when she clenches. 

It’s too dark to see much of anything, not even the flickering shadows from the hallway light, and too deep into the stone to feel anything more than solid cold. Furiosa flexes her body, stretching and searching for leverage, a steadier grip on the ground with her feet, a rusted screw pulled loose from her thrashing. She tries to ease her body weight against the wood to lever herself up, but door grates open with a low grind.

Her head snaps back at the sound, a growl bubbling sharp and frantic in her throat as she thrashes harder, heaving with each breath she takes at the sound of struggling bodies and shouts from War Boys. The smell of fire and grease and sweat breaks through the still air, and Furiosa feels her body tense; the prickle of sweat along her arms and back and neck leaving her hair standing on end. If she breathes in, she can smell him - the alpha; feel him clotting over the roof of her mouth, traveling down the length of her throat when she swallows. Something with grit and sweat and sand, the deep smell of cloth and earth baked under the sun.

She bites down hard on the inside of her cheek, but the taste of blood only makes her body warm all the more. 

“Pretty little thing, isn’t she?” the Organic says, and Furiosa tries frantically to chew through her gag. “Hope you don’t mind, I let some of my boys take their turns first.”

She feels fingers jabbing at her cunt, has to bite down almost through the leather in her mouth at the burn of it spreading over her hips, but Furiosa’s scream stays mercifully contained as the Organic slides his fingers inside her, scissoring and curling with a shameful wet sound. It was strange to her then and is strange to her now for how soft the bastard’s hands are; free of calluses hardened on skin from working the gears and steel and guns. Soft, steady hands that sewed people up and sliced them apart, that crept into places inside and ruined. 

“If I didn’t know any better, Imperator, I’d say you were beggin’ for this,” he leers, and Furiosa feels his fingers press in deep, too deep, the blunt edge of nail scraping over her walls, and this time she can’t stop the scream from coming. 

“ _ Tch _ . Can’t keep squeezing down so  _ tight _ , now. He’s gonna tear you up.” She can almost hear the oily, cruel smile in his drawling words. “Can’t have that, can we?”

There’s a low, harsh growl in response, and Furiosa’s eyes snap to the source of it in fear. A man, with shoulders broad and hunched and a muzzle strapped to his face as a pair of War Boys hold him steady. He’s swaying, teeth gnashing behind his muzzle, and Furiosa feels the Organic’s fingers slip from her, finds her cunt spasming at the loss. 

“Have at her, mate.” She thinks he claps the feral on the shoulder, and there’s a sound of clinking metal and the sharp thud of something falling to the ground before the door slams shut again.

She hears a heavy, ragged breath. “Omega.” 

She shivers.  _ Fuck _ , the muzzle. 

It’s impossible to speak behind the gag, but Furiosa growl behind the leather again. The feral they’d shoved into the cell is panting raggedly from the other side of the room, pacing and snarling and pounding his fists against the solid metal of the door. She can’t see him, can only crane her neck so much to watch him pacing back and forth like a frantic, cornered beast. She bristles at him every time his head jerks in her direction; catches the sparking black gleam of his pupils blown wide - fear and adrenaline, she thinks, but it doesn’t account for the way he reaches down to palm the growing bulge in his pants. 

Her spine goes rigid with dread. 

“Beta cum,” he growls, with a voice like sand and steel. He’s pacing around her now, sniffing at her, prowling around the bench like the starved dogs that circle the meat hole of the Wretched. Each harsh breath from his lips fills her own lungs with the smell of him, and Furiosa flexes her hands. 

She jerks violently on the bench when his hands reach out to her, snarling and shouting and doing everything she can to fight him back, but the feral takes hold of the leather strap tied around her head. His hands curl into it tight, holding her head steady, and Furiosa glares up at him witheringly, sees bright blue eyes cut dark with lust. She feels him jerk the leather slightly, his free hand moving down to palm at the prominent bulge between his legs -

She rips her head away from him with a snarl, pinching a nerve in her neck, but Furiosa feels her heart beat into her throat; she will  _ not  _ let him use her mouth. 

He grips her by the leather again though, domineering and rough, and Furiosa sees his eyes narrow impatiently. There are lines etched into his face from where the muzzle must have dug against his cheek and nose, bruising around the ridge of his nose from having been forced against his face, but she blinks again and feels her vision fuzz as her mouth fills with the scent of him. His thumb slipping down over her cheek, and Furiosa feels the rough pads of his fingers skim the length of her neck, her jawline, cup her face. 

He lets her head drop, and Furiosa bristles at him again, feels her cunt warming and the tingle of needing something hot, big, filling inside her in the presence of an alpha. His hands slide down over her body again, calloused and worn, from years of work, abuse, something. She doesn’t care. He lets his nails drag down over the curve of her hips, between her legs against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, and she jerks despite herself. 

The disapproving growl presses warm and sharp against her skin. His hands squeeze into the backs of her thighs, shoving them open even wider, and Furiosa feels a whimper escape her throat. His finger swipes over the mess the Imperators had left, smearing it over her folds, only just barely letting the pad of it press inside, and Furiosa makes a harsh, guttural sound at it. 

She squeals - outright, high-pitch  _ squeals  _ when she feels his tongue press to her cunt, finds herself freezing at the sensation of his warm, wet tongue probing at her folds, slipping inside her with a firm, hard lick before his growling mouth takes hold of her clit. She spasms around it, her walls clenching tight, searching for more as he strokes over her hole, sucks and licks and laves her clit with attention she doesn’t think it’s ever been given. He presses the flat of his tongue over her entrance, nearly rolling it against her skin until Furiosa finds her hips pressing back, a growl melting down into a moan when the rough callus on his thumb catches on her clit. 

Her cunt drips into his mouth and he groans at it, drinks her down like the thirsting wastelander that he is. He presses in harder, greedier, hungrier; she feels his teeth grazing over the skin of her folds, but it’s not unpleasant, the way he’s pushing and sucking and stroking. 

She comes apart on his tongue, a shivering, sweating mess on the bench as her vision spots and dims around the edges for a moment. She collapses onto the bench, lets it cut welts into her skin as she feels the strength leave her body, whimpering and jolting until he pulls back for a breath, panting almost as hard as she is.

Eventually the pressure of the bench cutting into her thighs becomes a hurt, and Furiosa forces herself upright, presenting herself to him even though she’s already growling again. He shuffles around behind her, breaths puffing and short, and she thinks she can smell the salty tinge of cum and her own wetness there. “Gonna knot you,” he rasps, hands warm and large and possessive over her ass, and Furiosa mumbles her protests again, but he rubs over her skin, squeezing and kneading the taut muscles of her hips and thighs before she feels his thumbs spreading her open. There’s a trembling moan from him, and Furiosa feels herself gush. 

She hears the shift of clothing, the familiar grunt of an impatient man as he rids himself of his pants, feels the hot, blunt head of it pressing to her folds suddenly. Furiosa screams, thrashing hard on the bench, shaking her head and sobbing, but his hand spans over her back, pinning her gently, hissing quietly. 

The spank renders her speechless, stunned into silence at the way her ass smarts something vicious; hot and sharp and  _ lopsided _ , fuck - she thrashes again, tries her luck and again his hand comes down heavily over the raised curve of her ass, marring pale skin in matching handprints. She stills briefly, tries to kick back, but the damned belts around her ankles hold tight. 

He bares his teeth at her in warning, nails raking down her skin in red scores before tugging again at the length of leather bound around her head. She wishes - oh how she wishes she could turn to him and punch him straight in his face, kick him away from her and maybe snap something on his body in half. 

His hand goes from steady and firm to soft on her back, his thumb stroking over her skin again, as if he isn’t even thinking about it, isn’t even aware of the way he’s running his fingers over the curve and dip of her shoulder blades, the way he seems to be mapping the lines of her ribcage, slipping down around her to the underside of her breast. It’s almost...soft, and shy, but what thought she has about his wandering hands is cut short by the way he shoves his cock inside her. 

Her breath stutters in her throat, eyes shooting wide as her teeth grind down so hard she can almost hear them click together through the leather.  _ Fuck _ , he’s big, and despite the fact that she’s already dribbling cum, the pinch of it lingers. She tenses hard, walls clenching tight to push him out, force his cock back, but the feral leans down over her, his weight bearing down over her body as he ruts forward. 

His breath is uncomfortably hot and damp against her neck, one hand spanning over her body to rest by the raised scar of her brand, and Furiosa shudders at the way he clasps it, holds her firmly in place as he works his cock in deeper inside her, the filthy, wet sound of it between them. He garbles something unintelligible, and it comes out more like a purr, the approving rumble of an alpha slipped nearly to the knot inside a wet, eager omega. 

She tries to jerk her head back - one last, valiant attempt of dislodging him from her, breaking his nose or bleeding him somehow, but he’s quick for his size, shifts his hulking mass over her body until she’s whining at the strain, has to pant open-mouthed for air. 

His teeth are suddenly pressed to the curve of her ear, the run of his tongue over the shell of it before he leans down to nuzzle his face into the side of her cheek. One hand slides down to where her flesh hand is strapped down, forces his fingers between hers to grip tight as he fucks her, bites and sucks and nips down her neck and shoulders without thought, a blind need to mark, to claim, to brand. She struggles beneath his mouth, nearly frothing around the leather, and he shoves her down roughly, jars her chin against the bench as he bristles over her, a loud, thunderous roar of a growl in his throat. 

The sink of his nails digging into her hip makes Furiosa flinch, but she forces herself still. The feral squeezes again once more, a warning. When her body goes limp, he takes to spanking her again, each hard stroke heavier than the last, until she’s wailing with tears running hot down her cheeks. 

His hips slam forward then, and Furiosa screams, her eyes nearly rolling back into her head at the way he spreads her open, the frantic way her walls spasm around his shaft and yearns for the swell of his knot. She can feel her cum dripping from where he’s still holding her open with one hand, a sly finger stroking over where they connect, slicking her clit in cum to rub. 

He presses his nose her neck, breathes her in with greedy breaths, a curious hum in his throat. Furiosa bites down to stop herself from moaning when he licks a line down her pulse. 

_ Fuck _ . 

Furiosa groans, loud and long and desperate; fuck it, fuck it, he’s already almost balls deep, the knot grinding against her dripping hole. If she doesn’t get him all the way inside her soon she’ll go mad. She grits her teeth against the leather and shoves her hips back as much as she can, whining in frustration when the straps around her thighs pin her there. He meets her thrust for thrust, sweat dripping from the scratchy fabric of his shirt, heat rolling off his body as he wraps a hand around her neck, pulls her up higher off the bench so he can lave his tongue over her neck, bite down gently over her throat. 

Her orgasm comes suddenly and violently, wailing and shaking. Tears bite at corners of her eyes, her body singing with the intensity of sensation that bombards her, and she lets out a muffled shout through the leather. It’s an almost instantaneous reaction in her body; her core temperature flares like the rush of a sun fever, sweat and slick gathering afresh on her skin. She feels her cunt aching, throbbing,  _ wanting _ for more, flexes and strains in her binding to touch him, touch herself, to feel his skin under her hands as he knots her, claims her, fills her womb with seed.

His hips still behind her, and Furiosa wails her disappointment, growling at him wordlessly as she shoves her hips back, flexes her thighs open wider to urge him in, in, deeper, fucking  _ knot  _ her already - “ _ mine _ ,” he says, and she arches into his voice, wants it pressed to her ear whispering the filthiest things to her. She begs him again with a shameful whine, and suddenly she feels his mouth on her brand, sucking on the tingling skin until she feels her cunt spasm again. 

He presses in, in,  _ in _ \- she jerks violently at the finally pop, howling behind the leather as her walls clamp down over the fat bulge of his knot, nearly paralyzed by the intensity of pleasure and pain surging through her veins. A reverberating growl stays in his chest, the mating purr of a sated alpha as his teeth drag across the brand, sinking down just hard enough. His hips stutter into his orgasm, a sudden burst of a snarl erupting from his throat as he pulses wave after wave of cum into her. 

She melts onto the bench, limbs drifting in and out of numbness, muscles straining from the abuse, keening low as he rolls his hips down into her still, plugs her up full of his cum as her cunt pulses around his knot. 

Exhaustion wrecks her ability to think, combined with the feeling of his knot pressed inside her, rubbing against the grooves inside her cunt that has the muscles in her thighs twitching. He doesn’t stop moving until she growls a half-hearted warning at him, and then after he just touches her. Rubs his hands over her skin, strokes her back and thighs and kneads the tension away from cramping muscles. She’s too drained to care, too wrung out from adrenaline and fucked-out. Vaguely she thinks that it’s….nice. 

His hand comes up to the back of her head, tugs roughly at the gag. 

The leather falls away from her mouth and Furiosa gags at the lingering taste of it on her tongue, panting and working her jaw muscles for a moment. 

She blinks, bares her teeth at the shadow of him against her and speaks with a voice hoarse and strained from screaming. “Alpha.”

He rumbles at her voice, hips grinding languidly against her ass; the knot presses and pulls back, bulges and disappears, and Furiosa hisses at him. His hands are now moving all over her body, stroking, squeezing, smearing sweat and cum and grit over her skin before he pins her hips down, squeezes at the alcove between her thighs where the dip of her ass meets her cunt.

“ _ Alpha _ .”

His hands still, but the way the purr is still running through his chest, she knows that he’s still deep into the rut, drunk on the smell of sex and sweat and her skin prickling against his touch. She wriggles uncomfortably, makes a small, imploring sound, and to her surprise, the feral goes readily. Fumbling hands tug and yank at the chains and leather binding her, but each tug is followed by a solid thud, and the feral grows irritable. He grunts and huffs and growls at it, but eventually Furiosa stills him with another murmur. 

“Help me,” she says, breathes it against the bench. “ _ Alpha _ , you want me, don’t you?”

“Mmn.”

“You want to make me feel good? Fuck me somewhere soft and safe and warm?”

“...M-nn.”

“You won’t hurt me, will you?”

“Nn.”

“The Organic hurt me,” she mumbles, and the reaction is nearly frightening. The feral bursts into a snarl, presses himself over her protectively, as if the weight of him against her back can shield her from anything that comes their way. She’s endeared, only barely, but she knows this is something worth taking advantage of. “He let other men fuck me. Let the beta men cum inside me.” His weight presses down harder, and Furiosa puffs on a breath. 

“Kill him.”

The feral grunts, rubs his head against her neck idly, presses his nose to her shoulder and breathes. “Hnnn.” He’s still tied to her, pulsing cum into her spasming cunt, and she makes a tentative squeeze around his cock. 

“ _ Alpha _ ,” she all but purrs. His knot twitches inside her in response. “You’ve bred me up; he’ll hurt me when I’m all bred up with your pups. He’ll take them, he’ll make me get milked. You’re a good alpha, aren’t you? You can  _ protect _ me, can’t you?”

The answering growl almost makes her smirk. 

“Untie me.”

He tears at the bindings of the bench, nearly rips his own fingernails out from effort, but he can’t get a handle on them - not when he’s stuck at the hip to her. He tries to tug himself out, but Furiosa yelps, and he goes back to her, pressing himself flat to her apologetically, fists one leather strap in his hand and yanks  _ hard _ .

It gives way with a vague snap, and Furiosa feels the blood rushing back to her flesh hand. She flexes it gratefully. Her skin is purpling in ugly blotches, but she still has most of her limbs. She curls her fingers, urging the sensation back into her fingertips as she pries and tugs at the strap squeezing around her half-arm. It’s been pulled too tight from her thrashing, and Furiosa lets out a frustrated grunt, fumbling back to where his body is pressed to her. 

She fists the material of his tunic in one hand, and begins to shove him back. Her jaw grinds down at the sharp burn of his knot sliding out, and the feral makes a bewildered sound as he scrabbles over the bench to keep her pinned, but Furiosa flexes her hips, bears down with effort until the widest part of his knot bulges her entrance, and pops out with a heave. 

Cum splashes wetly on the ground, smearing over her thighs and running in drips over her skin. Her hole stings, walls searching for something to lock down on again, and the feral makes a low, keening sound of disappointment.

“Fuck,” she gasps, reeling from the loss. “Untie me. If you help me, we can fuck later. Somewhere safe, somewhere where they won’t take me away from you.”

The feral makes a grumbling sound behind her, and Furiosa feels him swipe the length of his cock over her entrance one last time before he rounds the bench, sinking his teeth into the leather. He chews and gnaws with an impressive amount of jaw strength, and when her half-arm comes free, she even touches his hair, flits her fingers over the strange little tuft at the back of his head before working together at the metal around her ankles and thighs. The shackles are solid, however, held in place by locks that would break even the strongest teeth. She curses it, beats her fist against it and throttles it in a frenzy, breaths coming out in sharp, harsh pants as she tugs and tugs and tugs -

“Nmm.”

He snatches her hand in his, and Furiosa whirls on him with a roar, but the feral pins her against him, arms enveloping her shoulders and bracing against her wild thrashing until the fight leaves her body. Angry tears burn at her eyes and Furiosa brushes them away resolutely against the scratchy material of his shirt, and feels the feral touching the bleeding edges of her knuckles.

“‘f you help me kill him,” she mumbles dully into his chest. “I’ll take you with me.” It’s a pipedream at this point, getting out, getting away; getting to the Green. It’ll be a miracle if Joe lets her anywhere near the Rig again, let alone out of his sight until she’s round in the stomach, but Furiosa thinks that maybe there’s something in holding out hope. 

There’s a stilted sound in his throat, like the stall of a plugged up car engine, and it takes a moment to register in her head that he’s  _ speaking _ . “Wh’s - wh’s name -”

She stares up at him. “My name?”

“Mm.” There’s something like clarity coming through the blown-wide pupils of his eyes, confusion and bewilderment and a rush of guilt all at once. Furiosa lets her jaw work for a moment before pushing out of his grip. 

“Furiosa.”

He seems to roll the word in his head, jaw working silently, and she wonders when was the last time they let the feral taste water. “Furi.” There’s something like reverence in his eyes then, the same blind dedication and adoration she’s seen in the War Boys for Joe, but the intensity of it here nearly makes her wish he was still inside her. 

She’s tempted to ask him for his name, have him speak it so she can have something to remember him by, but there’s a sound of footsteps coming down the way, and the feral’s face shifts from confusion to rage as he makes for the door, but she yanks him to her suddenly. 

“Come here, fool.” She takes his cock in her hand and eases the softening length back inside her, gritting her teeth at the way it catches on her walls, and hauls him over her. “Don’t do anything until the door’s open.”


	2. escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the final round of filth will just have to wait

The Organic opens the door with a triumphant grin that Max nearly mirrors. “Well, still in one piece, eh?” the man leers, and Max bares his teeth at the sound of the lock latching behind the Organic. “We’ll have to do somethin’ about that.”

“Yes,” Furiosa says from beneath him, head turning to him with a flat look. “Yes, we should.”

He lunges at the man with a violent snarl, arms outstretched and nails sinking into the Organic’s face. The look of pure terror on the man’s face is almost laughable as Max grabs his head in both his hands. Blood bursts warm and slippery over his fingers, dripping as the Organic reels backwards into the gates, and Max throws all of his weight into it, roars with a grinning snarl at the breaking of bones and meat tearing from the man’s body. He claws with hungry fingers, runs jagged cuts down the man’s face before he gets ahold of the Organic’s arm, wrenches it out of its socket with a satisfying  _ pop _ . 

There’s a burbling, sobbing sound from the Organic, pathetic and whimpering, and Max pulls back just long enough to glance at Furiosa, chest heaving at the smell of blood and piss and sweat mingling into the hot scent of adrenaline and lust. Her eyes go from him to the Organic, and then back; she nods once, and Max crouches down over the snivelling man to snatch a fistful of the Organic’s thinning hair. 

His joints pop from the strength of his grip around the Organic’s neck, but he hauls the man up, forces him to kneel before Furiosa. 

One deafening crunch, and the Organic crumples onto the ground at her feet, a pool of blood and piss gathering beneath his mangled body. 

Max steps back, body vibrating with rage still, chest heaving as he swipes at the blood on his hands and face impatiently, smearing it over his arms and chest and face. There’s a toolbelt attached to the body, and Max tugs it off, finds a ring of keys and a scalpel.

He cuts Furiosa loose, humming deep in his throat at the way she staggers to her feet, eyes hazy and black, the smell of her Heat bubbling deliciously hot and smooth under her skin. She spits at the body, snarl curling her lip, and he reaches for her. 

She meets him halfway with a brutal kiss. 

He feels her teeth click against his, grazing over his lower lip before biting down hard enough to bleed him, and Max growls. His hands move to her hips, her waist, her back; smears blood up over pale skin as he licks into her mouth and drinks down the taste of her in his throat. Her half-arm wraps around his shoulders, locks him to her by his neck and he goes willingly, rubs his swelling cock against the slick mess between her thighs. 

Her hips grind against him, a purr deep in her chest as she pulls back, her eyes sparking at him with a wicked gleam. He groans at the loss of contact, dips his head to kiss her again, but Furiosa shakes her head, presses him back with a bloodied hand on his chest. 

The weight of his cock throbs heavily as he watches her lick her lips slowly, a slow grin across her face revealing a soft dimple in her cheek. The smear of red across her face is bright like war paint, vicious and powerful, and Max feels a predatory growl bubble in his throat again before he crushes his lips to hers roughly. She meets him tooth for tooth, nail for nail; he revels in the low, keening, wanton sounds he can rip from her, shoves her back against the wall before they roll to the ground, blood singing with need. 

He pins her easily, works his cock between her folds with stilted, searching thrusts before she tangles her fingers into the hairs on the back of his neck and tugs hard. He hisses at her and she snarls back, hips bucking up into his thrusts until he presses against her entrance and pushes in to the hilt. 

She arches into him with a stuttering moan, nails digging hard into his skin, burning sharp and hot against the still-healing brand on his neck, but Max lets his own teeth sink into the soft meat of her shoulder, the dip of where the sinews of her neck connect to her shoulder. Furiosa shouts at the hurt of it, thighs shaking open as he ruts between them viciously, swelling knot grinding into her sore entrance until the size of it catches too big to come loose. Her blood spills warm and sweet over his tongue, skin breaking away under sharp teeth as he reaches to squeeze and palm at her chest, callused fingers rubbing hard over sensitive nipples. 

“Mine,” he growls, teeth skirting over the rapid beating of her pulse, sucking over her overheated skin until he marks her there as well; let’s the rest of the world know that she is no one else’s to touch. 

He whispers filth into her ear;  _ gonna breed you, fuck you full of my pups, knot you full of cum and milk you _ . She throws her head back in a snarl, his hips grinding in slow, deep circles against her, panting ragged against her mouth as he feels her walls clamp down over his knot. The rippling waves of her orgasm tear through them both as he swallows her scream, moans in a long, shuddering breath into her mouth as he empties himself inside her, balls pulling in tight as he pumps into her as deep as he can get. 

The deeper he presses in, the tighter she clamps her thighs; the higher the whine in her throat as his knot swells and rubs maddeningly against her walls. Each twitch and tremble of her thighs puts a deep purr in his chest, gratified, possessive, that he can reduce his omega to putty in his hands, weak with orgasm and yet her hips grinding up into his desperately still. 

Eventually his knot stops pulsing, balls relaxing as Furiosa takes a gulping breath, trembling still. “We need to -” she swallows again, and puffs out a breath of omega and Heat and sweet right into his face. “We need to get out.”

Max grumbles stubbornly, flattening himself over her. “Tied,” he growls definitively, nuzzling his face down into the crook of her neck, pressing his nose into the dip behind her ear and filing his mouth and lungs greedily with the smell of her heat and sweat and cum cut through with the sharp smell of blood. There wouldn’t be any way to untie now unless she tries to force his knot from her again, but he doesn’t think her aching cunt can withstand that a second time, red and sore and so fucking  _ hot _ . His brain tingles with a cloud of instincts - he’s protected his omega, killed the monster that had hurt her, now he should be allowed to claim his rightful place between her thighs, to breed her until her Heat ends and she’s full up of his pups.

Furiosa squirms and shoves from under him, pressing her flesh hand into his face and shoving until he reluctantly heaves himself back up onto his haunches. He staggers, face pinching at the crunching ache it puts in his knee from the pressure, but he collapses back against the wall, hissing as the coarse edges scrape against his healing ink. 

Furiosa settles on top of him gingerly, hips undulating slowly over his, and Max’s lip twitches into a petulant growl.  _ He  _ should be on top.

She looks down almost amused at him, through the flush high in her cheeks; the glaze of wantonness is fading from her eyes. “You can be on top again later,” she promises him, craning her neck to to kiss him again, lick across his panting mouth. “When we’re outside and safe, don’t you want that, alpha? Somewhere you can have me all to yourself.”

Max groans in his throat, eyes sharp and accusing on her face. He’s doing a pretty fine job now of having her, but he could be rougher, harsher, more unforgiving than this. His nails sink into her hips, but there’s the sound of footsteps again, and he bristles. 

“Organic? Organic, you in there?”

A painted white face appears through the grids of the door, and Furiosa shouts at him suddenly, voice high and panicked and shrill with blind fear. 

“Help! He’s gone feral! He’s killed the Organic!” she screams, eyes wide and face awash with frenzied desperation as she makes an impressive show of fighting against Max’s hold, sobbing and thrashing wildly. “Please,  _ please _ , he’s -”

Max snarls openly when the door grinds open, hands scrabbling over Furiosa’s hips and pinning her roughly to him. His eyes snap from the boy to her, rage flaring up - how could she betray him like this?! But she writhes on him, thighs squeezing down hard, and she flashes a pointed look his way, howls when the adrenaline and instinct pumping through his veins has him rutting up into her harshly. 

“Imperator!”

He kills the boy. It’s easy enough when Furiosa holds the boy’s face steady for him and he plunges the Organic’s scalpel into his neck, feels the gush of more hot blood spilling over them. Max lets out a shuddering growl, smelling and tasting nothing but copper rust, so he wipes his hands down over Furiosa’s hips impatiently, tugs her to him roughly to press his face into her neck.

He licks down over the gland behind her ear, fills his mouth with the smell of her scent again, spiked rich and heady with Heat and nitrous-kicked adrenaline; he presses his teeth there dangerously.

“No!”

She shoves him back abruptly, and Max clicks his teeth at her in frustration. He  _ wants _ .

“Later,” Furiosa says again, moving impatiently over his hips. He’s getting tired of hearing that; of being filled with promises of a taste of her, and the constant interruptions of painted men and leering bastards. He wants to pin her down somewhere dark and warm, his mind screaming to him to  _ claim, mark, mate, bite,  _ **_his his his his_ ** -

“Hey!”

He jerks back, grunting at the way she eyes him apprehensively; flesh hand pressed hard against his chest as if she is afraid of what he would do to her. His brows pinch tight on his forehead; he’s proved his worth - he won’t be able to protect her from the other alphas if he doesn’t bite a claim into her. He frowns, but sinks back against the wall with a grumble. 

Furiosa sighs. “Look - the door’s open. We can get out of here.”

He looks down at their joined hips pointedly. His knot is shrinking very, very slowly, his body hopped up on fucking his omega and killing anyone who stands in his way of it. Furiosa is squirming on it anxiously, and part of him wants to tell her that her fidgeting isn’t helping him come loose, while the other part of him wants to grin up at her smugly. That as much as she wants to get away, her body wants to be near only him. 

Her eyes are beginning to glaze over, pupils blown wide as her fingers flex over his chest, the dreamy slide of them up over where his skin is hot and thrumming, to feel over the thudding pulse line in his neck. It’s a split second of impulse before she blinks hard, and then her eyes are clearer, almost bewildered and annoyed. “We need to try to get loose.”

Max makes his displeasure known very clearly in the way he rolls his hips; pins his thumb over her clit until she’s gasping high in her throat and groaning. She glares at him and he shrugs, gathers her slick over his fingers and rubs over her entrance, slips his fingers down to help ease her cunt open. 

It catches halfway over her entrance, the fattest bulge of it still too big to ease out, and Furiosa bites down on a yelp, digs her nails into his skin to keep him from opening her further. She pants over him, gritting her teeth as she forces her hips back down over him to take his knot back inside her. 

“We’re fucked,” she murmurs quietly. “They’re gonna come here and shred us. We’ve killed the Organic - they’re gonna skin us.”

He palms her hips gently, tries to lean back against the wall and let the sting of his back cut through the adrenaline. If he can just get her to open her legs...

“Lean back,” he tells her. She presses her lips together, leans; she is joined still to him but her hand slips downwards to spread herself wide open. He braces them, pushes her slowly but firmly backwards so that she begins to slide off, humming and moaning as quietly as she can and wincing with a snarl when she feels it catch. “Keep going,” he pants; he can feel her clenching hard, her body’s instinct to keep him inside until she’s bred enough, until he is physically pained at the idea of her leaving him - but still he tries, and she pushes, and finally with a pop his knot slides out of her and his shaft soon after as she falls back against the ground, her pussy gaped open wide as she twitches and shakes from the aftershock, struggling onto her elbows. He leans immediately, looking her over, and Furiosa spreads her legs to ease it a little. Her chest is rising and falling at an almost alarming rate, and she is still spread, so open and clenching he could probably shove the knot back in if he tried. He wants to. But he knows he cannot. 

“Fuck,” she gasps, and he helps her up on unsteady feet, tries not to push his face into the crook of her neck again when she leans against him for support. 

“Clothes.”

Max watches her crouch by the body of the painted boy, tugging boots and pants off and stumbling into them. He feels a wave of disappoint fill his chest as she covers herself, his seed leaking from her still as she tugs up the much-too-loose pants around her hips and uses him for leverage to shove her feet into the boots as well. He can’t help the way his hands cup her swinging breasts, feel the mold and shape of them fitting into his palms so perfectly; imagines what they’ll feel like swollen with milk. 

“Hey!” Furiosa slaps his hands away, glaring at him mildly, but Max shrugs. Omegas are meant to have milk, and she has such nice, round breasts. What thought he has in his head about fully exploring the taste of her skin and milk is waylaid when her fingers curl into the front of his shirt, tugging at the tunic, “give me your shirt.”

He pouts. But it’s  _ his _ .

She rolls her eyes at him, but her hand on his chest is stroking now, soft and light and teasing the neckline of his tunic where his clavicle and shoulders protrude. “Alpha,” she says again, and the soft croon of the word sends a line of pleasure jolting straight into his cock. His mind blooms purple and green with it. Her teeth flash at him in a coy grin, and she steps into his space, lets her scent fill his nose and mouth as his pupils blow wide and black at the musky edge of Heat under her skin. 

“If I walk out of here with no shirt on, don’t you think the other alphas and betas will touch me?” she whispers, lashes soft and hooded over her eyes as she traces the shape of his lips. Max feels his throat thicken, a possessive growl rumbling forth as he palms her hips roughly, pulls her to him in a crushing embrace. 

Furiosa leans back, shoving away from him, but her eyes are flashing with defiance. “Don’t you want your scent all over me?” she asks, fingers curling into his shorn hair, tugging hard enough for Max to bare his teeth at her. 

He grunts, but he pulls the tunic over his head, puts it over Furiosa’s instead and brushes it down over her body almost anxiously. To see her in his shirt puts another animal swell of pride in his chest - his omega, protected and warm and covered in so much of his scent it’s nearly sickening, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He blinks when she touches his face gratefully, before a wicked grin spreads over her pretty mouth and her flesh hand slides down over the bulge of his cock. 

She gives it a gentle squeeze. “We’ll take care of this when we’re down in the garages, okay?”

Max growls. He’ll fucking fly them down to the garages if he has to. 

\-------

There are skeletons all around, shouting and moving and cussing, and Furiosa presses him into divots in the wall, hisses at him to be quiet, but all Max can think of is to wrap his arms around her instead, pin her to the wall and cage her in his arms for safety. He tries several times; shoves her bodily against the walls to press himself against her, rub his ever-present bulge against her hips and growl into her ear, but Furiosa always shoves him away, hissing at him to be  _ serious _ \- as if he isn’t  _ serious  _ about wanting to throw her down right there in the corridor and fuck her until her screams can be heard through the desert. The smell of her is wafting thick and in layers through his shirt, a mix of sweat and blood and sex and cum; he wants to smell that on his shirt forever. 

Her Heat is getting stronger on her body, rolling in waves off her skin, and Max presses his face hard against the back of her neck to gather the taste of her on his tongue again before Furiosa makes a frustrated sound and jerks her elbow into his side. He pulls back with an irritable scowl; how much longer is she going to keep him wanting like this? 

“We’re almost there,” she whispers sharply. “Stay focused.”

They move together again down the narrow corridors of stone and firelight until Furiosa comes to a screeching stop at a fork in the road. 

They make it up to the Blood Shed, emptied for the night and only a sparse handful of War Boys plugged into their Blood Bags. The familiar sour copper smell of the room fills Max with a rush of anger and panic; the phantom sensations of the buzz sticks pressed into his ribs, the bone-deep hurt of the needles plunged into his veins. His heart beats a frantic pace in his chest, his throat, his ears - his hands reach without seeing to scramble for Furiosa, pull her away from this place, get her away from it before they get her within their sights, but she moves through the dips in the stone, shrouded in the overcast shadows of the hanging cages and bodies of the Blood Bags. 

The hairs on the back of his neck stand, bristling all the way down to the hairs on his arms, and Furiosa glances at him sharply, nostrils flaring at the rise of his scent in the air. “Calm down,” she says, low and murmuring, though when he looks at her, he sees the black of her pupils swallowing the crisp green, the way she looks ready to spread herself down on the ground for him. “We’re only passing through. We just need to get past the cages.”

Max shakes his head, shoulders hunching high over his ears as he curls as much of himself inwards as he can, protects his vulnerable naked belly until they press into a narrow corridor cut into the stone, almost invisible in the dark light. His hand scrapes against the rocky edges, grounds himself into something other than the scent of Furiosa guiding him through the walls, but his ear twitches at the sound of heavy boots up ahead. His muscles tighten, body tensed to strike, but Furiosa’s hand curls into his wrist tight, pulls him back hard against her. He goes willingly, all but grinds himself into her, but Furiosa gives him another warning growl, eyes darting anxiously at the sound of it stilling, slowing to an almost wary pace. 

The voice that calls out comes from another painted man, older than the rest; eyes covered in paint and goggles and perpetual frown on his lips. “Yer not as sneaky as y’think you are, boss.”

A loud snarl bursts from his lips from instincts, a dangerously brutal warning to this newcomer, but Furiosa claps her hand over his mouth, hisses at him reproachfully. His eyes slant suspiciously to her; he takes her fingers into his mouth eagerly, nips the edges of her fingertips to taste her. She lets her hand linger there a moment, and he feels her fingers run over the jagged edges of his teeth, tracing wet down over the plump of his lower lip before she pulls away, looks relieved and surprised and equally as wary about this man.

“Ace,” she breathes, and Max bristles at the familiarity in her voice. 

“Smelled yer trail all the way up from the pits,” this Ace man says, both amused and disapproving and Max presses himself closer to Furiosa, steps ahead of her when she moves into the light. 

The painted man looks at them for a moment, frown deepening when Max growls at him. “You stink of alpha all over, girl. You didn’t think the boys would notice?” He seems to look pointedly at the series of bruises and teeth marks over Furiosa’s skin.

“Better than smelling like an omega in Heat,” Furiosa says evenly, eyes hard on the man’s face. “Get out of my way.”

“Not in yer way,” Ace says, arms folding across his chest. “Yer lucky I got here before the others did. Sent my boys back down when they came up here.”

Furiosa frowns. “Why?”

Ace shrugs. “Yer Imperator.”

“And he’s the Immortan,” Furiosa says sharply, eyes dark and spiteful; her words make Max puff up protectively from beside her, slip himself between her and Ace. The scent of her is spiking rich and sweet in the roof of his mouth - if they don’t get the hell out of here soon he’ll want to take her now in front of the painted man.

Max grumbles at her, lip twitching into a snarl at having another male so close to his omega - beta or not.  His knee creaks and aches and burns in protest from all the walking and crouching and fucking, and the pain only makes him snarl all the more at Ace.

“ _ Move _ ,” he growls, the adrenaline pumping through his veins threatening to spill over the longer they stand in one place. 

“Look,” Ace sighs, the corner of his mouth scowling at Max. “I can get ya to the Rig. Next run is two nights off - got enough water and food to last you till then.”

Furiosa says nothing for a moment, lips pressing together into a thin line. “Why?” she demands. “You’re talking about traitoring the Immortan for an omega Imperator.”

Ace scoffs at her. “Omega or not, girl, I spent almost six thousand days with you. Saw you growin’ from bein’ a Pup into Imperator. You didn’t traitor the Immortan - he traitored you, just ‘cause yer body’s somethin’ different. Now what kinda Second would I be ‘f I just let that happen? What’s he gonna do to the rest of us?”

Max looks from Furiosa to Ace and back again. He doesn’t quite understand the relationship - doesn’t care at this point, just wants to get them the hell away from all of these men and get her somewhere he can have her to himself. He makes a sound in his throat, sharp and impatient, and Furiosa sighs. 

“Okay.”

\------

By the time they get to the Rig he’s panting like an overheated dog, sweating mad and nearly delirious with the way he can only smell Furiosa’s Heat calling to him. It smolders at him, weaves into the crevices of his brain and fingers as he presses himself against Furiosa, rubs himself over her with a needy rumble in his chest. She nudges him away weakly, throat working as she stands by the side of the towering beast of a War Rig; he sees her lips parting slightly, the breath she takes in to fill her own mouth with his alpha scent, and Max slips his hand over the curve of her waist hard. 

“Yer not gonna make it easier with the way yer gettin’ each other revved up,” Ace says tightly, and Max’s eyes dart to him witheringly, casting a low look at the man over Furiosa’s shoulder. 

“We’re fine,” Furiosa says, voice as thick and hot as the pooling wetness he can smell gathering between her legs. 

Ace presses his lips together. “Yer gonna have to huddle down by the produce,” he says quietly. “Stay up in the corners until I come back. Give you the all clear.”

“I know where to be,” Furiosa says, and Max moves with her as she pulls open a hidden slot in the Rig’s underbelly, wants every last inch of her pressed flush to him, wants to feel her hips rolling back into his erection, the hard squeeze of her thighs over his.  He molds himself over Furiosa’s back and she makes a sound in her throat that Max doesn’t have time to dissect before he’s whirling slightly once when Ace comes in too close. 

“Don’t!” Furiosa hisses sharply, flesh hand clasped over the muscle of his neck. She’s staring up at him with green eyes mostly black with a distant mixture of lust and confusion, a raw hunger that seems to be held back on very frayed restraints. “Ace is - Ace is okay. Ace is safe.”

He bares his teeth at the man and Ace makes an annoyed sigh. 

“Ain’t nothin’ to be worried about, boy,” Ace says shortly. “‘m all dried up.” 

Max snorts at him dismissively, and then Furiosa tugs him to her by his neck, nudges him into the hold. He goes reluctantly, eyes tracking Ace still, mouth twisted into a perpetual snarl as Furiosa runs her fingers over his hair before turning to face Ace. A rush of heat fills his chest, tight and ugly; he braces himself in the doorway of the hold, watches coiled and tense as Furiosa murmurs something under her breath that he can’t quite decipher, can’t comprehend - not when she’s reaching out and Ace is reaching out and now he’s touching her arm - 

He lunges before he can help himself. Curls his hand into the back of Furiosa’s shirt -  _ his  _ shirt, his shirt and his omega and  **_his his his_ ** . His arm snakes up across her chest, pulling her back against him hard, and Max feels her gasp against the side of his face as he bursts into an angry roar at Ace.

“I can put him down, boss,” Ace says urgently, reaching for his holster. 

“No,” Furiosa chokes, nails digging into the meat of Max’s arm as she moves with him, stumbling backwards to where Max is tugging her into the hold with him, face pressed hard into the line of her neck, teeth already scraping over her skin. “No, no it’s - it’s fine. It’s okay. He’s - we’re fine.”

“ _ Mine _ ,” Max growls, and Furiosa gives him a responding grind backwards. He mouths the throbbing pulse line of her neck, sucking another deep mark where his teeth have already left purpling red bruises. He wants Ace to see it; wants it there for all to see. 

Ace steps back apprehensively, a deep frown on his face, but Max pulls Furiosa back further, clambers uncoordinated into the blackness of the hold and slamming the door shut. They’re shrouded in blackness inside the Rig; nothing but the hot scent of Furiosa around him and her body pressed tight and soft against him. 

Furiosa breathes. 

His hands twitch around her, one hand slipping down over the damp heat between her legs, cupping her mound possessively. 

She hisses, breath shuddering the same way her thighs tremble against him, hips twitching into the steady pressure of his hand. “A-alpha -”


	3. divinity in motion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I tried really hard to finish it but brain did not cooperate to here is some kinda filthy smut and cute things?? are they cute??? i don't know

\-----

He rolls them in the cramped space. Furiosa lands awkwardly on her elbows and her legs splay from the weight of him bearing down on her, but she whines, rocks back into him as he snarls over her, rubbing himself against the damp seat of her stolen leathers. He tries to press her face to the floor and Furiosa rears back defiantly, a hissing snarl in her throat as she jerks her elbow back again, catches him in the side before he grunts and growls, hand tight on her neck as they roll again. She thuds hard against the floor and whispers something along the lines of that they needed to be _quiet_ -

She moans as his hand worms into her pants, bucks hot and needy as his fingers press over her folds, slipping through the mess of cum dribbling from her used cunt. The loads he had emptied inside her twice before are smeared over the insides of her thighs, messy and slick and obscene in his mind - his omega fucked into a messy pile of shaking limbs and cum dribbling. He pushes in two fingers first, even though she’s so slick he could probably fit four and then some, and growls against her at the way her hips twitch and jerk up into his hand.

She’s panting hard, the hold fills with the smell of them together - her sweet and heady and lush of omega and Heat and _want want want need breed breed_ **_fuck_ ** and his own thick scent crashing together like a raging windstorm meeting headfirst into the whirling sands.

Furiosa groans raggedly, harsh, short sounds tearing from her throat with each thrust. Two fingers, now three, and Furiosa clenches down tight, clamps her thighs over his moving hand and snarls at him, fingers woven into his hair and pulling hard enough for his scalp to ache.

He roars at her, heaving fast, violently breaths as he wrestles her back down, wriggling and snarling and bucking frantically against his hand before he reaches up, latches his hand firmly over her neck. “Stay,” he barks, squeezing over her windpipe with enough strength to put her body rigid beneath him, the whites of her eyes nearly clear in the dark.

“F-uck,” she chokes, and Max leans down to kiss her panting mouth roughly. That is certainly the only thought running through his head; the hot smell of her cum thick and heady as it trickles over his fingers, pools in the palm of his hand. He thrusts his fingers and curls them, rubbing the callused pads of them into the grooved ridge inside her, and Furiosa loses her breath into his mouth, tears her lips away to shout and shudder and moan as her walls clamp down over his fingers.

His growls are vibrating up through her, low like the idle of a V8 as he kisses her again, slips his free hand down to tug and shove at her shirt - _his_ shirt - pushing it up over sleek, soft skin and firm muscle as he dips his head down to nip at her breasts. He takes a nipple in his mouth and sucks, lets his teeth tighten around it just so, until Furiosa’s keening and writhing, pressing her chest into him. His fingers inside her thrust deep and fast, but Furiosa’s shouts are reverberating off the metal of the Rig, and he tugs the shirt up, catching on her shoulders, but enough to bundle in his fist and press into her mouth.

Furiosa’s teeth bite down hard enough for him to feel through the fabric, and he growls his approval at the muffled wail that comes forth as she shudders into another orgasm. He moves his fingers slower, deeper, hungrier. Inside her he spreads his fingers wide, swallows the stuttering moan that it elicits from her throat, and redoubles his efforts - pressing, spreading, rubbing, all until she comes apart for him again, weak and shivery and her thighs splayed.

Her hand is shoving at his, scrabbling for his wrist and stilling his movements, weak and limp against him. There’s a shaky whine that deepens into something like a sob, and the sound of it clicks somewhere in Max’s head. The violent thrum of his hormones and instincts grind to a halt, worry filling him now at the thought of hurting his omega, hurting Furiosa. He pulls his head from her breast to peer into her face. Her head is half-thrown back into the floor, mouth filled with his shirt and she’s sucking in slow, choking breaths before he tilts up higher over her, and in the sliver of light that breaks in through the cracks of metal, he sees her eyes as she squeezes them shut, the tears that run over the side of her face.

“ _Furiosa_.” Her eyes snap open at his voice, gravel-rough and caught in his throat, but she looks at him with red-rimmed eyes and a whirl of something there that he doesn’t think either of them are ready to address. So he pulls his fingers from her slowly, eyes steady on hers as he reaches to cup her face.

His cock is achingly stiff, weeping pre-cum into the seam of his leathers, straining at the amplified scent of his omega burning with Heat, but he touches her first, fingers stroking over the salt-trail of her tears on her cheek, running his thumb over the edges of her eyes, wipes them with an amount of delicacy that surprises even himself. He pulls the shirt from her mouth gently, watches as Furiosa licks her lips and swallows in hard breaths. “Okay?”

She doesn’t answer for a moment, and Max feels the back of his mind flare anxiously again, but then her hips are grinding up to him, her cheeks flushing hot and her scent spiking so rich and sweet and - “fuck me,” she whimpers. “Fuck, just - fuck, _fuck_ me.” Her hand wraps around his wrist and she tugs desperately, pulling him over her.

“No.” Furiosa stares at him incredulously, but Max eases her up, gripping her hips and turning her over onto her hands and knees. “Like this.”

She wriggles out of the shirt and uses it to bolster her elbows on the ground, presses her face there so willingly, spreads her knees for him like such a good omega that Max has to stop himself from biting a claim into her right away. No - he’ll fuck her first, pump her full of his cum until it fills her up good and round. He presses his face into the back of her neck, breathing the scent of her in again as he rubs the length of his cock over her slick folds, feels the pulse of his knot already beginning to grow at the base.

“Gonna fuck you so good,” he rasps, hands greedy on her skin. “Get you good and round and your tits aching, mm.” It’s the most he’s spoken, caught in his throat like a growl, but Furiosa whines at it, pushes back into his cock impatiently.

He works his cock into her entrance with rough, vicious thrusts, filling her deep as she shudders and groans under him; the filthy sound of his hips slapping against her ass filling the hold. Her wetness runs hot over her thighs and his, matting the fine hairs that brush against her trembling thighs and his legs that bracket hers to keep them from closing. He rocks and grinds and pounds into her until his knot presses into her hole, large and swollen and twitching with cum to fill her as Max drapes himself over her, panting harshly into her ear.

The knot pops in with a hard shove, and Furiosa collapses to the ground, wailing low and long in her throat as she bites down on the shirt and squeezes. Max swallows his own shout with his teeth pressing to her neck, and as he feels her pulse beating frantically beneath her skin, the tilt of her head away from him, neck exposed. He bites down hard, claiming his omega with greedy thrusts and teeth breaking skin.

Her blood spills warm and fragrant into his mouth and Max groans even deeper, feels his balls tightening and aching as he spills inside her, endless roiling pulses of cum that rushes hot into her welcoming body.

His knot fills out the rest of the way and Furiosa yelps, wriggling weakly beneath his dead weight but the knot is lodged in firm, holds his cum inside her as he kisses and licks the pooling blood away from her neck and shoulder. “Mine,” he growls, purring almost lazily against her now as he rocks into her, hand roaming down her body to her clit and rubbing until her walls are fluttering faintly around his knot.

The adrenaline is wearing off now, and Max feels his head begin to loll heavily into her shoulder, his eyelids slipping shut and harder to pry open the longer they stay tied. He won’t untie as easily as he had before; this is the claiming tie, and though she is marked in bruises and prints where his hands and mouth and teeth had lingered on her skin, she had always pulled back, fought him off before his teeth could really sink down, could really Mark and Claim her and ruin her for anyone else.

Furiosa lifts her head briefly from the shirt, and he can smell the tears on her face as she takes in slow, ragged breaths. “‘s too big,” she whines, legs spreading under him more to accommodate the size of his knot, but he’s still in the midst of pumping her full of his seed, and Max rumbles quietly at her, eases her back down with a firm nuzzle into her cheek.

“Sleep,” he tells her, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Won’t untie for a while.”

Furiosa huffs, hips rocking against him until she seems to find a comfortable position, until he doesn’t feel the sharp tug of his knot pulling inside her. She curls slightly, and he goes with her, arms wrapped around her naked body, fingers running soft, ticklish patterns over her skin until they both succumb to exhaustion.

\-----

He wakes to the vague feeling of his knot moving inside her. Max is dazed in the darkness, arms around Furiosa squeezing tight as he gathers himself, realizes that they are warm and safe in the darkness, the muffled sounds of movement somewhere far away from them. Furiosa is mumbling against him, hand pressed idly into his, fingers interlocked against her stomach. Max nuzzles her hair, rumbling in his throat as he feels his knot soften just enough for a rush of cum to leave her.

He scowls, pulling his hips away at the mess, but it’s still not small enough to pull out of Furiosa, and she whimpers in her sleep. Against him he feels her body begin to tense, muscles locking as her eyes snap open, head jerking back to look at him in the craggly darkness.

“Sore,” she murmurs, hand reaching down to where his knot is beginning to bulge from her, too big to come out, but small enough to move from where it had been keeping his cum inside her. She moves again and there is another gush of it, running messy and warm between her legs.

Max frowns. His cum is supposed to stay inside her, seed her with his pups. He slips one hand under her thigh, squeezing as he nudges it up and open, easing himself from resting pressed behind her until he’s rolled her onto her back and nestled himself between her hips. Furiosa groans at the manhandling, thighs jerking at the way his knot twists inside her, but the amount of wetness spilling out of her keeps them from hurting too badly.

He grunts at her, lifting her hips off the floor and levering her against his thighs; elevating her hips to keep more of his cum from spilling out of her. He stays knelt over her with a satisfied grunt, even if his knee is screeching something awful from overexertion, but the pleasant warmth of Furiosa’s walls clenching around his knot is enough to stave off the worst of the pain. His knot is anchored inside her once more; the movement between them coaxing it back from its softened state into a hard, pulsing bulge inside her, and Furiosa grimaces as he pushes in to tie her again, fumbles down to rub at her clit.

“When does it stop?” she asks him, sucking in a tight breath as she shudders in a weak orgasm around him, and Max feels his cum pushing out of her. “It doesn’t go down.”

He hums, pressing his hips in closer to her until Furiosa relents and sighs, lets him keep her hips pressed up into him. “Soon,” he promises her. His thighs are beginning to cramp, and the exhaustion from their escape has his muscles strained and ragged. If he keeps this up, he’ll be no use to her if they get caught again.

“Rest,” he tells her, and Furiosa edges her hips up to him for a more comfortable position, pulling him down over her.

“Keep me warm,” she murmurs into his ear, and Max presses his forehead to hers in a sleepy nuzzles. “What’s your name?”

“Hmm?” His hands are touching her gently, soft on her hips, her thighs, spanning over the length of her ribcage to feel the steady beat of her heart in her chest.

“Name, fool. Your name.”

Oh. “Mmn. Max.” It’s strange to say it again after years of silence, but it feels intimate, pressed here together in the dark, the warmth of his body around her and inside her. “My name is Max.”

A small, shy smile pulls at Furiosa’s lips as she leans her forehead up to his, a drowsy breath of a kiss on his mouth. “Max.”


	4. culminate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in the end, there is green

When he wakes next, he finds the stuffed-up clog in his head of her smell and hormones dimmed into the back of his mind again. His nose is still full of her scent, sweet on his tongue, but most of it is covered by the thick musk of his own body; Furiosa reeking his scent inside and out. He shifts down closer into her curled body, a contented sound in his throat as he noses the side of her neck, breathes in the lingering spicy heat under his claim. 

Furiosa is snoring quietly on his arm, her head pillowed against the meat of it. He peers down into her face, takes in the curves and arches of her jawline, her cheeks, her eyes. Up close, he can see the sparse hair on her arms, the dream-quick flutter of her lashes.  The smooth exhaustion from the mad rush of their coupling. Something is coiling in his chest outside of the Rut, the heavy leaden sense of dread and fear; they can’t have pups like this together. 

They don’t even know if they’ll make it out alive yet. 

No more pups, no more deaths, no more hurt - 

Max shifts against her. He’s becoming pointedly aware of the bone-deep ache of his body - muscles long forgotten, stamina that hasn’t been put through its paces like this in a while. He licks his lips and glances around them in the quiet dark, smells the crisp allure of water burbling above them. Their hips are pressed together, his front pillowed against the firm curve of her breasts, and Max feels his cock twitching idly against her skin, knot softened down and nestled between her asscheeks. His cum and her slick dry in smears over their skin, and Max rolls away reluctantly, nudges her awake. 

“Hnnnmm.” Her brows pull tight, her mouth pressing into a stubborn line. 

He flits his fingers over the curve of her cheek. “Need food,” he murmurs to her, and Furiosa’s eyes crack open, slow and groggy as she rolls awake. 

Furiosa stretches her limbs as he rummages through the darkness for food, neck rolling this way and that as she reaches to touch the ache in her shoulder, fingers gliding over the scabbed-over ridges where his teeth had sunk in deep. Her body protests each movement she makes; even a cough burns down into the core of her abs and chest. 

He finds a plush head of cabbage and some raw carrots. Furiosa has herself propped against the wall of the hold now, legs stretched out and her flesh hand rubbing idly at where her knees are bruising and sore. He splits the cabbage open for her and sits by as she eats, hovering and crouched by the door, ears nearly swivelling for any signs of threat as Furiosa peels its layers and rolls a few to coax into his own mouth. 

The taste of fresh and green and his omega has Max leaning in for more, tongue slipping over Furiosa’s fingers, teeth nipping gently as she curl her fingers behind his teeth and tugs affectionately. The cabbage is bittersweet and crunches hard under his teeth, the carrots hard and sweet to his thirsting mouth, and when Furiosa pulls her hand away, Max goes along with it. He presses his nose to the inside of her wrist, nostrils flaring as he takes in the warm, soft smell of her - her heat is dwindling down now, but his mouth waters for her anyway. 

“Need water,” he murmurs, nosing along her arm, mouth open and hot against her skin as he laps up the salt and must and heat off her body. 

Furiosa hums, her half-arm reaching to rest over his neck. “Can try getting up to the pipes.”

Max grunts, shaking his head as he moves from her arm to pressing kisses and licks along the salty plane of her breastbone. “Not safe,” he mumbles on her skin, as his hands come up now to stroke over her body with his mouth, touches her reverently as he looks up at her with a lazy, smug grin. “My omega, mmn. Not theirs.”

The last thing he wants is to have Furiosa within range of ay other alpha, beta, omega - it didn’t matter. He can still smell the last of her heat prickling under her skin and beginning to sizzle and spark now that she’s rested and fed. Furiosa makes a noise in her throat that was nothing near protest, and Max presses himself closer. Kisses the pebbling nipple of her right breast, takes it into his mouth and sucks. His hand travels up along the long arch of her neck and he lets his fingers tighten over the back of it, smothers a smile against her breast at the way Furiosa shudders and gasps, body going limp and pliant for him. It’s an instinct bred into omegas; not unlike felines and kittens curled glassy-eyed and dozy in their mother’s jaws. 

He enfolds her in his arms, mouth alternating from one breast to the other, teasing her nipples into aching peaks as Furiosa rocks against his lap with a far-away gleam in her eyes. “Gonna be aching with milk,” he growls, rough fingers tweaking over a slick nipple. “Gonna be ah - leaking all over your belly, needa - lick it up.”

There’s a hitch in her breath, a stutter in her hips before she freezes over him entirely, muscles going taut. He pulls back immediately, peering into her face with a worried, anxious frown as Furiosa presses her hand to his shoulder and leans away from him. He knows he’s done something wrong, said too much, done too much, or perhaps too little - has he not proven himself enough?

“I can’t, y’know.”

He blinks, shifts back onto his ass to ease the pressure off his thighs. “Can’t what?”

Furiosa goes quiet for a long moment, staring at the space behind his shoulder with something between fear, anger, and sadness. “Pups. It - they never took, I mean. At least, I don’t think I can.” She glances back at him tentatively, body curled as if ready to flinch and strike both - braced for the impact of a punishing fist. 

Max stares up at her, watching her face carefully as he reaches up. True enough, Furiosa twitches when his fingers brush her jawline; her muscle tighten and her lip begins to curl into a snarl, but he cups her cheek gently, keeps his eyes steady on her frightened ones. “You been in heat before?”

She stares at him. “Of course. Many times.”

“How long, usually?” he asks, scooting back with her still in his lap to lean against the cool surface of the wall. “A week? Ten days? Worst in the middle?”

Furiosa shrugs somewhat impatiently. “Yeah, I guess. I never really thought about it.”

Max nods thoughtfully, hands now braced against her smooth thighs and stroking gently. Heats last a week at least, for unmated omegas. He doesn’t want to think about how long she’d been on that bench before they threw him into the mix. “This time? When they -” he stops midway, abashed; apologetic when Furiosa’s face smooths over. 

“Wasn’t in heat,” she tells him simply. “Not until you.”

A slow, creeping weight settles in the furls of his stomach, and Max swallows thickly before he speaks, “your heat’s ending, yes?”

Furiosa shrugs. “Guess so. I feel it, but I don’t  _ feel  _ it.” But she shifts closer to him anyway, grinds down in his lap in an almost thoughtless movement. His cock is twitching at the contact of slick, soft flesh along the ridge of his shaft, but Max squeezes her hips gently and pulls them to a halt. 

“Furiosa.” The name on his lips has her stilling, head cocking down to peer seriously into his face. Max grits his teeth and tries to force the words out, to hope and pray that what she says is true, that there is no way that they can conceive now, that it’s not too late. But something in him knows better than to hope. “‘s been barely a day. Two, at most. Your heat’s gone, getting gone.”

The hand gripping his neck tightens, nails cutting into his skin but Max bites down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from speaking again. Furiosa is staring hard into his face, eyes wide and bright and pale with fear as she works the thoughts in her head slowly. 

“It’s never happened like that before,” she breathes, hand suddenly going slack. “I’ve never….” She stares down at her stomach with equal measures of panic and horror and awe; the place where the weight of his cum settles between her hips. 

Max squeezes his eyes shut tight until the stars and black dance together. “Might be wrong,” he says eventually, hands stroking over the cool, shaking length of Furiosa’s body. “Might not work like I think.” 

“Or I might be pregnant already,” she whispers, a fractured sound as he leans up desperately to kiss her mouth and soothe the furrow in her brow. 

“Don’t think about it,” he murmurs, rolling them so gently, spreading her thighs with his hips as he kisses her and kisses her neck and cheeks and shoulders and down, down, down. “You and me. Right here. Just you and me.”

Furiosa’s breath shakes, like she wants to speak, but he takes the words into his own mouth as he spreads her open and puts his tongue to her. He works on her with firm, steady strokes, then soft and feather-light - with fingers, and then without, leaves her clenching on nothing and begging as he lavishes her with the attention to wring out three devastating orgasms until trembling, shaking, crying by the end with her half-arm flung over her face. She takes gulping, sobbing breaths, ragged and hot as he gentles her down from it with soft, squeezing hands over her hips, her waist, her ribs. 

He kisses his way back up her body and cradles her in his arms, murmurs to her that he’s sorry, he is. He’s sorry. 

“We’ll run away,” he mumbles, head nudging gently against Furiosa’s shoulder as she trembles and curls into herself on the cold, musty floor. “If it - if you’re -.” He presses his forehead against the back of her neck, tries to force out the whispering voices in his brain. They weren’t so noisy before; had gone quiet with the rut. 

“We’re getting out,” she says, voice hard and low. Her jaw is set tight in the low lighting, and he reaches to cup her cheek. “One way or another, we’re getting out of this place.”

\-------

Ace appears in the dead of night to them like a ghost. Max nearly tears his head from his shoulders when the painted man’s face materializes from the dark, but Furiosa shoves him back and grabs at something Ace is holding eagerly while the older man speaks to them in low murmurs. 

“Run’s tomorrow,” he reminds them sharply. “Got yer gear ready.” He offers her a duffel bag full of artillery; guns, bullets, knives, and when Max moves to take it from her, he even sees a folded set of clothes too. Ace sniffs at him from the corner of his eye, arms folded disapprovingly as ever. “Can’t have your mad man gallivanting around with his clangers swingin’ this way and that.”

Max feels his ears burn something vicious, but then Furiosa pulls out an intimidating-looking metal arm, and Max finds himself mesmerized at the way it slips over her half-arm. The practiced, easy way she wraps leather straps around her body, tugging it firmly into place over his shirt. It’s a length of hardened steel and gears, metal fingers deadly and gleaming, but Max finds himself tempted to touch them, feel their strength against his skin. 

“Who’s on the run?” Furiosa asks. 

Ace prattles off some names and words, and then jerks his head up into the cab. “I’m runnin’ the big wheel.” He smirks at Furiosa knowingly, grunts when Max makes a jealous shuffle closer. “Didn’t have time t’ tear out yer kill switches. Next best thing, I guess.”

Furiosa nods after a long moment, and clasps arms with Ace again. It elicits a bristle from Max again, but it’s subdued, quiet; her heat has dissipated into nothing more than a lingering spice in his nose, the smell of her overwhelmed by his own on her skin, the changing biology that marks her to him, and Max feels another roil of guilt and shame fester inside his gut. 

“Make room,” Ace says suddenly, face grim and goggled eyes staring into Furiosa’s face. “Yer gonna be havin’ company tonight.”

Furiosa goes stone still. The air shifts uncomfortably between them, tense and tight and prickling along the hairs on Max’s neck as he steps closer to Furiosa, eyes sharp and feral. Something’s not right - something’s different between the painted man and her now, something that Furiosa clearly hadn’t anticipated. Is this all a ploy? A ruse to capture them again? 

His hand curls into a fist, a snarl bubbling up from his chest, but Furiosa lays her metal hand calmly over his wrist, and Max stays, partway stunned by the sensation of cold steel on his skin, and confused at the expressionless look on Furiosa’s face. 

“Why?”

Ace jerks his head, looking away suddenly. “Gidja begged, when I told her what they did to you. I owe her that much.” He glances at Furiosa briefly. “Owe you that much, too.” There’s noise coming from the far hallway, and Max presses back to the Rig, tugging at Furiosa’s hand urgently as Ace moves off. 

“Tonight,” Ace says, and then he’s gone.

\------

In the end, there is fire, and madness, and blood, but there is green. 

Not where she remembers it to be, not where they had hoped for it, but at the end there are many mothers and water and green.

There are broken bodies and dead babies, but there is green. 

**Author's Note:**

> [crawls into a handbasket]


End file.
